


The Fluff Hunter

by keep_waking_up



Series: Fluffs Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Mating, Mildly Dubious Consent, Self-Lubrication, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff thinks the hunt's gonna be a simple one.  He doesn’t expect to run into a lion ‘were searching for his mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fluff Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> For spn-masquerade for this prompt:
> 
> Jeff is a world famous hunter of wild game. He gets more than he bargained for when the inhabitants of a remote village hire him to take out a wild animal preying on their lifestock.
> 
> One of the Js (don't care which) is really a werecat/wolf and tried attracting a mate with his hunting prowess. He didn't really bank on a human finding him, but Jeff is tall and strong and has a nice beard. So.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan has a world-renowned reputation as a hunter of the bizarre and strange.  It’s a job that means sometimes he’s booked up to his eyeballs and sometimes he doesn’t work for a month.  The less-than-normal creatures in their world are mostly content to hide out and leave humanity alone, after all.  It’s only when one of them goes rogue and/or insane that Jeff is called in.

It’s early spring when Jeff gets a call form the mayor of a small town in Oregon.  “We’re not a big town,” she tells him, “but we try to be self-sufficient.  We grow our own food and raise our own livestock.  We depend on those things.  Money isn’t something any of us have a lot of.”

In other words, they won’t be able to pay him.  Jeff sighs and shifts the phone to his other ear.  “I understand, ma’am.  Now, you say it’s been eating your livestock.  What makes you think this isn’t just a wild animal?”

“It’s been unlocking the gates,” the woman says bluntly.  “There’s been no blood left behind, so we think it must have killed the sheep somewhere else.  And one time it got into a farmer’s house somehow and took some cookies that had been left out.”  She pauses.  “It also seems to have a taste for pie.”

Jeff snorts and makes a mental note that the thing has a sweet tooth.  “Sounds like it’s gone feral, whatever it is.  I should be able to take care of it in a few days.  I’ll drive down tomorrow morning.”  It’s a bit of a shame to leave his cozy home in Vancouver so soon; he’d just returned from a hunt in Florida—a swamp monster, of all things.  But he also knows these people have nowhere else to turn.  “Let me know if it strikes again.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” the mayor says, clearly relieved.  “I’ll make sure there’s a cabin ready for you when you arrive tomorrow.”

After thanking her, Jeff hangs up and rubs a hand over his face.  He’d been hoping to sleep in his own bed long enough to get the kinks out of his neck, but that’s clearly not going to happen now.  Sighing, he pulls out his well-worn dufflebag and gets to packing.

 

*

 

By the time Jared was fifteen summers old, his mane was fully grown and he was ready to leave the den.  He wandered around, trying to find a territory to claim as his own, for several summers before he settled down next to the town with all the nice, fluffy white creatures.  It wasn’t the ideal territory—it was far too rainy for that—but it was there that Jared realized that it was completely  _pointless_ to look for a territory without his mate.

Since then, he has taken eight of the fluffy white things.  They are difficult prey to steal, not because they are very good at eluding him (they are not; they are quite stupid and trusting, actually) but because they are guarded by fences that sting Jared’s nose when he brushes it against them.  Also, the two-legged people who seem to have entrapped them only leave them alone at night.  Moreover, the fluffy things have a tendency to become alarmed when faced with Jared’s four-legged form, so he has to use his clumsy two-legged one to take them. 

So between one full moon and the next, Jared has taken eight of the creatures, which he thinks shows his prowess as a hunter quite well.  He’s sure such a display will bring him a good mate.  His father had shown him that hunting was the way to a mate’s heart, and so Jared will hunt until his mate comes to him.

Jared thinks about this as he does his daily patrol of his territory.  He’s a bit sad that his mate hasn’t come yet, quite frankly, but he can be patient.  Just like he waited to begin stealing fluffs until he knew how to avoid getting stung by the fences, he will steal fluffs until his mate hears of his skill and comes to him.

Jared is caught up in thoughts of his mate when he catches a foreign scent in his territory.  Sniffing delicately, Jared takes in the smell, trying to gauge whether or not it is a threat.  The intruder smells a bit like something dark and metallic, which isn’t good, but that lays over another, truer scent, which is somehow both smokey and sweet.  Jared’s pushing his snout into the scent-soaked bracken before he realizes what he’s doing.

A thrill runs through Jared, from the tip of his nose to the end of this tail.  He gives his mane a shake and lets out a confused chuff.  Nose to the ground, he follows the scent trail.  Its path is a little meandering and it takes a while for Jared to notice that the intruder has been following  _Jared’s_ trail.  Jared is clearly moving back towards his den, where he has been keeping his stolen fluffs. 

Growling, Jared bounds through the forest towards his den.  Clearly, the intruder wants to steal the fluffs from Jared, thus proving his superiority.  But Jared  _needs_ those fluffs.  His mate will want to see them, when they arrive.  So Jared will fight off this trespasser and prove himself an able defender of his territory.  He’s sure his mate will like that about him as well.

With a great roar, Jared leaps into the clearing in front of his den.  The trespasser—a two-legger of all things, covered in the weird skins most of them seem to like to decorate themselves with—whirls around and points something long and shiny at Jared. 

Normally, Jared would roar some more and shake his mane to show the intruder that he is not a creature to be messed with.  But he’s a bit dazzled by the fact that the two-legger standing in front of him is his mate.

His mate is tall for a two-legger.  The skins he wears are dark and smell somewhat musky, more like animal than two-legger.  Jared’s mate even as a mane, if a small one.  There’s dark, curly fur on the top of his head and it becomes wiry and lighter as it circles around his face to meet on his chin.  Jared likes it.  He’s never known anyone with a mane besides his father and himself—and even  _he_ doesn’t have a mane in his two-legger form.  The mane is clearly a sign that this man is  _definitely_ Jared’s mate, in case he had any doubts.

Already, Jared feels he has wasted too long staring at his mate.  His mate smells wary and confused, and that just won’t do.

Filled with love and adoration, Jared pounces on his mate.

 

*

 

One minute, Jeff is trying to figure out why the eight missing sheep are A) still alive and B) trapped in a cave in the forest.  The next, a  _lion_ of all things comes charging into the clearing, roaring and growling.  Jeff gets his gun up, ready to shoot it if it attacks him, but then it… doesn’t.  Just stands there and stares at Jeff with an expression that’s almost  _dopey_ . Jeff is beginning to wonder if, perhaps, the lion is a bit fucked in the head when, all of a sudden, it’s  _pouncing_ on him.

He’d let his gun lower a bit as he’d gazed at the lion and he curses that as he prepares to have to  _wrestle_ with a  _lion_ .  He’s trying to get his gun up so he can at least try to  _hit_ with it when two heavy paws land on his shoulders and a rough tongue begins licking his face.

He has to drop the gun and grab onto the lion in order to maintain his balance.  The lion seems to like that, licking at Jeff’s face even more vigorously in return.  Jeff thinks that he can’t  _possibly_ get more confused, which is, of course, when the fur under his fingers almost ripples, and Jeff is left with hands pressed against soft, warm, human  _skin_ .

“Whoa!” Jeff shouts, finally getting enough sense back to push the lion/person/ _thing_ away from him.  It stumbles backwards, allowing Jeff a clear view of the creature.

It doesn’t look inhuman.  In fact, it looks like nothing so much as a nineteen year old boy with floppy brown hair (like a mane, Jeff thinks absently) and slanted hazel eyes.  The boy is tall and lanky—still growing, probably, Jeff thinks, like it actually  _is_ a boy instead of a—

“‘Were!” Jeff bursts out in realization.  “You’re a  _‘were_ .”  The boy blinks at him uncomprehendingly and seems to take Jeff’s words as some kind of invitation, because he flings his arms back around Jeff and resumes licking him with his now very-human tongue.

Jeff grips the boy’s (naked) hips in mute shock.  ‘Weres were some of the rarest creatures, usually preferring to live out their lives in the depths of the wilderness, completely eschewing all human—or other—contact.  There were only a few authenticated sources relating to them, so human understanding of them was extremely limited.  But Jeff knows enough to realize that a lion ‘were in Oregon is pretty damn odd.  And a ‘were without a family group is even more odd.

A rush of pity sweeps through him.  “Poor kid,” he murmurs aloud and pulls the kid closer, even though the kid’s naked.  Jeff has no idea how the boy has ended up alone, with only stolen sheep for company, so touch-starved that he would lick (or maybe groom was a better word) a complete stranger, and a human one at that.  It’s got to be a pretty damn sad story.

There’s no way he’s going to  _kill_ the kid now, though, so he pulls out his phone and dials his contact in the supernatural species department at Stanford.  Jim picks up on the second ring.  “Jeff?  That you?”

The kid is getting more insistent in his licking; he keeps trying to lick Jeff’s lips.  Jeff tries to calm him by petting his head with one hand and holds the phone in the other.  “Yeah, it’s me.  Jim, I’ve got a situation over here.”

“Not a deadly one, I hope?” Jim asks quickly.  Jeff has taken him out on a couple of hunts and, to Jeff’s knowledge, Jim has enjoyed none of them.  He’s much more of an academic. 

“No, not deadly,” Jeff replies.  “Unless hugging to death is something that can actually happen?”  It’s not so much the hugging he’s worried about, actually, more the licking.  And the groping.  The kid has found his left pectoral muscle and is eagerly palming it.  “I seem to have found an orphaned ‘were.”

Immediately, Jim is at attention.  “A  _‘were_ ?  Jeff, do you have any  _idea_ —”

Jeff cuts him off before Jim can ramble on.  “You know I do, Jim.  Look, the kid’s a lion ‘were, probably around eighteen to twenty years old, so far doesn’t show any sign of understanding English.  He’s been stealing sheep from the town nearby.  Not eating them,  _stealing_ them.  Now he’s attempting to lick my face off or maybe get a piggyback ride.  I’ve got no idea what to do.”

There was a long pause on the other side of the line.  “Jeff,” Jim starts, sounding cautious.  “Did you say he was licking you?”

“Yeah.”  Jeff adjusts the phone and bats the boy’s hands away from his crotch as they continue their wayward adventures.  “Did it first in his lion form and then he turned.  He seems to like my beard.”  He pauses, a thought occurring to him.  “Maybe he thinks it’s a mane?”

“Could be,” Jim answers, but he sounds like his thoughts are elsewhere.  “Look, Jeff, I’m not sure on this one but... there was supposedly an interview with a ‘were a few decades ago.  The document has never been authenticated, because no one but the interviewer ever saw the ‘were.  But there’s some interesting information in there, and I think—”

Jeff rolls his eyes, not really having the patience to sit through one of Jim’s academic tangents.  Especially not when the kid has released his shoulders so that he can kneel down and nose at Jeff’s stomach curiously.  Jeff takes a hold of that long brown hair and tries to discourage any further exploration.  “Can you cut to the chase for me, Jim?”

“Mating,” Jim says bluntly, sounding a little peeved at being cut off.  “The whole document is about the mating practices of ‘weres.  Supposedly, all the predatory ‘weres—big cats, wolves, etc.—consider a good hunter an ideal mate, so in order to attract a mate, they’ll attempt to hunt what they consider difficult prey.  Then, they’ll keep trophies from their hunt, to show to their mates.”

“Ah,” Jeff says shortly.  “So kiddo here is attempting to attract a mate.  I guess sheep kept inside an electric fence are pretty formidable prey.”

There’s another pause on the other end of the line.  “I don’t think he’s just looking for a mate,” Jim says slowly.  “I think he’s found one.”

“What?”

“Well,” Jim said flatly.  “He’s licking your face, apparently.”

Scoffing, Jeff rolls his eyes.  “He’s just enthusiastic—shit!”

Without Jeff keeping him away, the kid has nosed down to Jeff’s crotch and is now  _extremely_ enthusiastically bathing the outline of Jeff’s cock with his tongue. 

“Jim, I gotta go,” Jeff says as calmly as he can before hanging up the phone and yanking the kid away from his dick.

 

*

 

Jared’s mate smells even better up close.  He smells the best where Jared had been licking before his mate had pulled him away.  Jared pouts a bit at being stopped and tries to lean back in, to try again to get a taste of his mate’s skin.  All the silly skins two-leggers wear are in his way, but Jared thinks that maybe if he licks enough, he’ll be able to get past them.  He won’t be able to, though, if his mate doesn’t let him start licking again.

“Look, kid,” his mate says, and Jared doesn’t understand him, but he sounds serious, so Jared tries to hold still and pay attention.  “You can’t lick me there.  That’s private.”  He tightens his grip a little on Jared’s head and shakes just a little, as if he wants to ensure the message gets across.  Jared is reminded of his mother holding him by his scruff and shaking him when he was just a cub.  It’s different with his mate, of course, so he lets out a pleased rumble and presses back into his mate’s touch.

His mate laughs a little bit, and Jared smiles back, pleased.  “You’re just incorrigible, aren’t you?”  His mate asks—Jared can tell it’s a question by the way his voice tilts up at the end.  But it sounds like a nice question, so Jared turns his head to nuzzle into his mate’s palm and lets his eyes fall closed as his mate strokes through his hair.

“I’ve got to figure out what to do with you, kid,” his mate says, and then he kneels down so that his face and Jared’s are on the same level.  Immediately, Jared leans forward to rub their cheeks together and is disappointed when his mate pulls away.  “None of that,” his mate says sternly, and Jared is even more disappointed because more seriousness does not make it seem like they’ll be mating any time soon, which is kind of what he was going for.  “I get that you are looking for a mate, but I’m not it.”

Then his mate sits down and gazes off into the distance, completely  _ignoring_ Jared, which makes Jared  _mad_ .  He has proven himself a good mate, has provided fluffs for this two-legger, and now the two-legger refuses to mate!  Jared hisses angrily and darts forward to nip at his mate’s jaw.

“Ow!”  His mate’s reaction is to slap the top of Jared’s head and lean away from him again.  “No biting either!”

Jared glares at his mate.  He understands that he is young; his mate is clearly older and more experienced.  He understands that he’ll be the one to submit when they mate, because his mate is clearly pride-leader.  But Jared does  _not_ like being talked to sternly all the time.  He hopes his mate will stop once they’ve mated and he’s affirmed that he is the dominant male.  This behavior is clearly some kind of pre-mating dance to prove Jared is second-in-command.

Maybe his mate just needs him to submit more clearly.  So far, Jared thinks shamefully, he has been very aggressive towards his mate.  Perhaps his mate doesn’t want that.  Jared bends his awkward two-legger limbs until he is on all fours, close to the ground.  If he were in his four-legger shape, he’d have his ears and tail down as well, but this is the best he can do in this awkward skin.  He very carefully does not look at his mate and tries to radiate submission.

“Awww, kiddo.”  His mate sounds sad now, but he reaches out and strokes Jared’s head again, which is a win.  “You don’t need to do that.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.”  He wraps his hand around Jared’s hair again and gives a slight tug.  “Here.  Come back.”

Jared looks up quickly to make sure he’s interpreting the tugging of his hair right and then quickly crawls until he can settle his head on one of his mate’s legs.  There’s something else in the way, besides the rough skins his mate is wearing.  It’s got two straps and then a pouch with a shiny silver thing sticking out of it.  It makes it hard for Jared to lay his head on his mate’s leg.  He growls at it a little, until his mate chuckles and nudges him over to the other leg.  “Leave the thigh holster alone, kid,” his mate says, and Jared can tell it’s some kind of order, but it seems like a nice one.

His mate absentmindedly pets Jared’s hair as they sit there, and Jared breathes in more of his mate’s intoxicating scent.  It is maybe the best thing he has ever smelled, much better than the fluffs.  Jared wonders whether his mate will want to eat the fluffs.  Jared had hunted them with the intention of eating them later with his mate at first, but he’s become kind of fond of them.  They are nice companions, if a little stupid.

The scent coming from his mate’s groin is intoxicating.  Jared is so close to it that is very hard not to push his snout in closer, really breathe in the musk.  But his mate has told him not to.

Although.

That had been  _before_ Jared submitted.  Maybe, if Jared tries  _now_ , his mate won’t push him away.  Darting a glance up at his mate, Jared readies himself.  And then he  _lunges_ .

“ _Fuck_ !” His mate hisses, and his hand grabs at Jared’s hair.  Jared can tell that his mate is going to pull him away again, unless he does something to convince him not to.  Quickly, Jared opens his mouth and sucks at what he can feel of his mate’s cock underneath his false skin.  “Fuck,” his mate says again, but this time the hand in Jared’s hair is pushing him closer and his mate’s cock is getting hard under his mouth.  “Fuck, kid, you’re really serious about this mate thing, aren’t you?”

Jared’s mate sounds kind of breathless, which is a good sign.  Jared sucks harder and nuzzles into his mate’s crotch.  He wishes there was some way to get the false skins off, because it seems that even vigorous sucking does not do anything but make them wet.  Whining a little, Jared reaches one strange two-legger paw up to claw at the skins.

“Whoa.”  His mate catches his hand and holds it back.  “No scratching there, kiddo.”  There’s a pause, and Jared thinks his mate will push him away again.  He gives a desperate growl and opens his mouth even wider, wishing he could somehow get all of his mate’s cock inside his mouth.

His mate groans loudly, and when Jared glances up, his mate is staring down at him.  When their eyes meet, his mate’s jaw firms up a little and then he says, “fuck it.  I’m going to hell anyway.”  He reaches down and does something to the skins he’s wearing.  Once Jared realizes he’s not being pushed away, he releases his mate’s cock, in the hopes that his mate will somehow get it out of the skins for him.  Sure enough, two seconds later his mate is pulling his cock, hard and thick, out of some hidden hole in his skins, and nudging Jared’s head back towards it.

Jared is more than happy to oblige.  He begins licking his mate’s cock with every bit of reverence it is due.  It tastes like his mate in the best kind of way and he thinks he could spend all day licking it.

His mate seems to have other ideas though.  He grabs Jared’s hair again (he must have some sort of fixation, Jared thinks) and tries to push him towards the head of his cock.  A bit confused, Jared licks over the tip a few times, but even that doesn’t seem to please his mate.  “Suck, damn it,” his mate rasps out, and Jared yowls sadly because he doesn’t know what his mate wants him to do.

His mate releases his hair and slams his hand into the ground.  “Fuck. He’s a  _cat_ , you idiot.”  He doesn’t seem to be talking to Jared, because he’s not looking at him, but Jared doesn’t like the angry tone.  “Cats don’t know how to give blowjobs.”

Clearly, something Jared is doing is not right.  Jared sinks low on all fours again and doesn’t start licking his mate’s cock again.  Surely there’s something else Jared can do for his mate—

Jared is nearly as stupid as the fluffs.  He can’t believe he forgot.  _Clearly_ , his mate wants to  _mate_ .

With a happy chuff, Jared spins around, lowers himself so his upper body is lower than his backend, and presents his rear.  Now, Jared thinks contentedly,  _now_ his mate will be happy.

 

*

 

One minute the kid’s licking his dick like a god damn popsicle and the next he’s waving his ass in the air, chipper as you please.  Jeff isn’t sure how the kid knows about anal sex—again,  _cat_ —but there’s no other way to interpret that position.

Jeff’s just about to try to salvage the situation by maybe knocking the kid out, carrying him to the town, and then maybe calling Jim again.  But then he sees it.

Slick.  Dripping from the kid’s ass.

Fuck.  He  _really_ didn’t think that old wives’ tale was true.

He can’t stop himself.  One minute he’s about to stand and get the hell out, and then next he’s kneeling behind the kid, two fingers pushed all the way into the kid’s slick, hot ass.  Jeff watches, entranced, as he fingers the kid, who is yowling and caterwauling his pleasure.  And maybe there’s something to this mate business, because god knows Jeff’s never gotten so hot so fast over watching someone fuck themselves on his fingers.

There’s no way he’s going to be able to stop himself now, not when the kid’s been slowing wearing his resistance down for the past half-hour.  The kid wants to be fucked?  He’ll fuck the kid alright.

Decision made, he slides his fingers out of the kid’s ass (much to the kid’s displeasure), grabs him by the hips, and flips him over.  The kid blinks up at him, clearly startled.  Those (cat-like) hazel eyes are wide with shocked and his (slanted, how come he didn’t notice that before?) pupils dilated with arousal.  The kid’s own cock is long and hard, and Jeff gives it a few tugs just to watch the kid writhe on the ground like no one, not even himself, has ever touched his dick before.

Maybe no one has.

If Jeff wasn’t already more turned on than he thinks he’s been in his life, that would do it.  “Fuck, kid,” he tells the boy, even though he knows that he can’t understand him.  “Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”  He really is, all long, lean body with a big mouth and a tight ass.  Jeff pushes between the kid’s legs, throwing his ankles up around his shoulders, and loves the length of them, loves the way the kid just bends for him, and the curious gleam in his eyes.

He especially loves the startled yowl the kid lets out when Jeff feeds him his dick in one long, smooth thrust.

For as much as the kid had been panting for his dick, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it once he’s got it.  He squirms on Jeff’s cock, his ass clenching down as he seemingly struggles to figure out what to do.  He seems honestly baffled by the position, as well the feeling of a cock inside of him, and he stares up at Jeff like he’s some kind of god that will make everything clear.

Jeff is more than happy to oblige.

He fucks the kid with hard, short, fast thrusts that, apparently, nail the kid’s prostate from the way he’s mewling.  The kid’s whole body is already trembling and it’s fucking heaven around Jeff’s cock, like everything about that hot little body is doing its best to squeeze an early orgasm out of him.  Jeff lets go of his hold on the kid’s arms and leans forward, planting his hands on either side of the kid’s head so he can fuck the kid’s mouth with his tongue, fill him on both ends as well as he can.

The kid isn’t really able to participate in the kissing, much to occupied with crying out with every thrust.  But Jeff takes what he can get and kisses the kid until he’s panting, gasping for air.  Jeff pulls back when he thrashes a little, as if the sensation of it all is just too much and he can’t keep still.  Then he sits back on his heels, puts his hands on the kid’s hips, and  _really_ starts thrusting.

The kid could be bringing the forest down around them with his wailing; Jeff wouldn’t notice.  He’s too focused on the tight, wet heat clamping down around his cock with every thrust, squeezing him like it doesn’t want him to leave.  God, Jeff’s still dressed, thigh-holster and everything, fucking this ‘were kid in a god damn forest and it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.  If he gets his way, he’ll fuck this kid every day until they’re both old and hobbling.  This is the best god damn thing—

The kid looks up at him, eyes hazy and face flushed, and starts to make a sound.  It could have been anything really.  But it starts out with a long drawn out M-sound and and Jeff thinks  _mate_ .

That’s all it takes.

When he can think about anything besides pleasure again, he looks down to see the kid has come all over his own stomach.  It’s hot, because he doesn’t think there’s any way the kid touched himself, which means he came on Jeff’s cock and nothing else.  His eyes are wide and unseeing, like he’s just seen God, and Jeff can’t help but chuckle a little as he pulls out and lays down beside the kid.

Immediately, the kid is flopping over and pushing close to him.  He’s making some kind of noise that’s kind of like purring, but isn’t, and Jeff feels it vibrate through him as he strokes the kid’s back.  He knows there’ll be a lot of obstacles in the future; he just fucked someone that’s mostly animal and doesn’t understand English.  He just fucked a  _‘were_ , for god’s sake.  Or maybe, he just mated one.

Nothing’s ever going to be simple again.  But Jeff thinks of the two of them, him and the kid, wrapped up together in his bed.  He thinks of them out on a hunt together.  He thinks of feeding the kid pancakes for the first time and watching his face light up. 

He thinks maybe it’s worth it.


End file.
